FOREVER KNIGHTS: #7 King of Assassins

I know what’s so carefully guarded beneath that oversized green fabric. He immediately envisioned what she zealously concealed.

“Don’t make me call my men to remove you.” She warned.

From the corner of her eye, Dimurah caught the barmaid, Belline, filling his drink. Thinking Dimurah wasn’t looking.

Don’t threaten me. You’ve gone too far, Murah. You know better…His blue gaze slitted. You’ll regret saying that.

“Why?” He twisted to give the four of them a bored glance. “Do you wish me to kill them? Remember,” He lifted a finger, tsking again. “exactly how much you missed the last ones.”

“There’s too many. Even for you.” She said acidly. Blue eyes narrowed to slits.

I don’t know how many that is. So you most certainly don’t…

“Never too many.” He took a heavy dram from his newly filled tankard. Dismissing her.

Belline, the barmaid offered him a sly smile. Taking in his sinewed frame and long blonde hair, twisted and woven with wooden kill beads. Framing a hard, square face dominated by virulent blue eyes. Her gaze lit with interest.

Clear to see what she wants.

He heard the whisper of Murah’s cloak and knew he could’ve caught the blade. Instead, he let her draw close enough to lean over the counter next to him. Pressing it to his throat. This is the game you want to play?

Why? He frowned. You know you’ll lose. In-front of all these people?

Why do it? He tried to assess out what was possessing her exaggerated behavior tonight. His gaze scouring her furious face.

Rounded cheeks, tinged gold from being sun-warmed. Large round blue eyes. Dark lashes framing them. A rounded chin and a small beckoning mouth. Red curls creeping from her hood to tease her face. Flushed in her ire.

She was tipped nearly on top of the wooden stand to face him.

Blatantly challenging me. He leisurely lifted his tankard for another drink. Swallowing despite the nick of her weapon. Setting it down, he slid his gaze to her. Noticing the heat of a rounded breast smashed against his bicep.

Soft. Warm.

Come closer, Murah.

“Get out of my alehouse.” She seethed.

Not a chance.

“The one I gave you?” He whispered into her face before staring ahead again. “I warned you.”

“The one I’ve built!” She objected. Fist shaking around the blade’s handle.

He pushed his tankard further away. Shifting his weight to turn his body to her without moving his neck. He gave her his full attention. Setting the intensity of his blue gaze back on her. “What are you doing, Murah? You know better.”

She hissed as he moved. Body tensing and the blade pressing his windpipe.

“This is my alehouse. I rule here.” Her defiant eyes flashed, and she was brilliantly beautiful.

He already envisioned sinking himself into her warmth. He watched her lick her lips as her mouth went dry. And truth be told, she probably is too.

He let the stare renowned through Ardae, delve into her. Until she was nervous. Until she was shifting, swallowing hard.

And finally, she blinked.

It took him that long to bat her forearm down away from his neck. Shoving it hard enough between their bodies to send her into a half turn against him, he jerked his hand around her forearm to hook the hilt. Wrenching her wrist up toward her body until her grip broke and he freed the blade into his fist. As her cloak whipped out behind her. He caught a fistful of it with his other hand. And yanked her the opposite direction she’d been spinning. Making it impossible for her to catch her footing, until she faced away from him.

His muscled arm snaking her waist. He used her own dagger against her throat. “You know my rules…” He whispered into her hair. “Yet you bring me a dagger…” He paused thoughtfully. “Always a blade on you, isn’t there?” He splayed the hand already flattened over her stomach, to ensure the reach of his fingertips grazed high and low.

No other weapons on her.

She swallowed hard. The dagger pressing into the soft tissue of her throat.

“Now.” He tilted his head around to see her face over her shoulder. “Whose camp is this?”

A few people in the tavern gasped. Shocked at the blur of aggression.

Others quieted. Those who knew Savage Jack.

“He’s so bloody fast!” The newcomer from earlier murmured to his friend.

“That is Savage Jack.” His cohort responded. “He always moves like that. She’s lucky he hasn’t gutted her yet.”

“What do you want?” Dimurah choked around her own dagger.

Some people laughed coldly. Amused he had the upper hand on her.

He pressed the blade into her tender skin just enough to pierce the surface. Making one thick drop of blood well.

As she did to me.

“Bend her over the bar, Savage Jack!”

He barely spared the stranger a glance. I should kill you on the road tomorrow.

“I want what I always want, Murah.” He whispered along her hair, for her ears alone. He caught her hood and yanked it back. Revealing the riot of red curls pouring down her back. And sparking blue eyes, lighter than his. “You flat on your back in my tent. Moaning my name.” He announced louder.

A few assassins in the crowd made awed sounds at the sight of her. Having never realized what she kept hidden under that hood.

She expostulated enraged profanity.

He chuckled. Lazily jerking the dagger upward, to remove it from her throat. He released her and she hastily stepped from the warmth of his arms to turn a glowering gaze on him.

“Barmaid! Bird leg!” He slapped the counter with a wolfish smile.

Belline curtsied like he was some manner of king and backed from him to fetch the food.

“This is my alehouse!”

“You barter here. You own shares. But you don’t own the guild.” He corrected, taking another drink. Ignoring her ranting next to him.